Stories of Home: Geena, henna artist from London
Some people arrive in Rome with a printed itinerary in hand.
Others come with a simpler intention: to pause, breathe, and let themselves be surprised by whatever happens.
When Geena, a professional henna artist from London, booked a week at La Casa al Colosseo, she wasn’t chasing monuments. She was looking for quiet – and for the kind of inspiration that only appears when you finally slow down.
An arrival that felt like a new beginning
Geena arrived on a rainy afternoon in late March, with a light suitcase and a small decorated wooden box. Inside were her cones of natural henna and an old photograph, worn at the edges, of an elderly Indian master.
“He was my first spiritual teacher” she said, placing the box on the kitchen table.
“I always carry him with me. He reminds me that creating is a sacred act, even when you’re drawing on a stranger’s skin in Soho.”
Photo by: Asiya Bhat
It wasn’t her first time in Italy, but this trip was different.
“I didn’t want a hotel” she’d written when she booked. “I needed a home with a story, a place where I could work and still feel at home.”
And so she arrived at La Casa al Colosseo, with that quiet grace of someone who has already been through a lot. We understood each other straight away: she told me about her art, her five children, whom she had raised almost on her own, and the difficult years now, thankfully, behind her.
Over a glass of wine (there’s always some in the house), the idea of Stories of Home was born: not just to tell who stays here, but to share the stories of those who leave a gentle mark behind.
Interview with Geena – tattoos, travels and small revelations
We met again two days before her departure, on a lazy afternoon at Tiziana’s, a tiny wine bar that feels more like a Roman sitting room, with a few tables scattered along the pavement and conversations that go on until the streetlights come on.
What brought you back to Rome?
“The need to reconnect with myself. Rome is a place where art is everywhere, even when you don’t notice it. It’s in the cobblestones, in the cracks in the walls, in the shadows of the columns. I needed silence, but also living beauty.
London is fast, efficient. Rome, on the other hand, has this generous chaos that forces you to slow down.”
That line about London being “efficient” made me smile. It’s a city where I, too, feel strangely at home. There’s something quietly funny about the fact that, sometimes, we breathe better precisely when we’re somewhere else, in another country, in another language.
Did you bring your tattoo tools with you?
“Always. I can’t stay away from drawing. This time I wanted to create patterns inspired by Rome: arches, ancient mosaics, even a fig leaf I picked up at the Esquilino market and left to dry between the pages of my notebook.
One evening a friend came over and I gave her a temporary tattoo, a small laurel branch wrapped around a ribbon. I was working in silence when a group of young people in the street below started singing Bella Ciao. It was magical, a reminder that beauty lives in simple moments: hands creating, voices singing, windows open.”
Your favourite Roman moment?
“The sunrises. Every single one. I’d walk up to Colle Oppio with my mint tea and sit on the highest bench, the one where you can see the Colosseum from above. The light would turn pink, then orange, then white.
In London I go to Hampstead Heath to watch the sun come up, but here it’s different: you can feel the layers of time, as if the stones remembered every dawn they’ve ever seen.
I also loved the bookshops. There’s a tiny one near Santa Maria Maggiore where I found a book on Caravaggio, full of ideas for floral motifs. He worked with light; I, on a much smaller scale, just look for inspiration. I watch how he breaks it, how he hides it, and try to echo a little of that in the designs I draw on skin.”
One piece of advice for anyone who wants to live Rome “like a local”?
“Walk. Just walk, with no real plan. Rome is a city where it’s almost impossible to feel truly alone.”
Romans give you advice you never asked for and don’t think twice about stepping into your day: they correct you if you order coffee ‘the wrong way’, they ask where you’re from and why you’re here. At first it felt intrusive, then I realised it’s their way of saying, ‘you’re part of the picture now too’.
If you’re travelling on your own, it’s rare to reach the end of the day without having spoken to at least someone. Someone stops you, points out a better way, tells you a story you didn’t expect. It’s a city that doesn’t easily leave you on the sidelines.
And don’t be afraid to stay in one evening. It’s not wasted time, it’s not ‘missing out on Rome’. Sometimes it’s the softest way to listen to her: the clatter of plates from nearby kitchens, an argument drifting up from the courtyard, a pot simmering on the stove.
And yes, very often the real Rome is in the smells rising from other people’s kitchens.”
By then I’d realised that, throughout our conversation, the kitchen kept slipping back into her stories.
You’ve mentioned the kitchen quite a lot…
“I have! Around seven in the evening, from the courtyards and flats below, you can smell the sauces starting to cook. I found your recipe notebook and made spaghetti al pomodoro: simple but perfect, like a haiku. We ate them while we talked, with the windows open and the house filled with voices from the courtyard.
Cooking, in the end, is another way of tattooing time: you leave a mark, a scent, a memory that lingers. The strongest memories are almost always the ones with a very specific smell attached, it comes back to you, all at once, years later.”
Photo by: Zoshua Colah
Some guests never really leave
Before leaving, Geena gave me a handmade bookmark: a simple strip of card, with a few mehndi-inspired patterns and, in the middle, a line written in Italian:
“Come un buon libro, la tua gentilezza lascia un segno che resta nel tempo.”
“Like a good book, your kindness leaves a mark that endures over time.” Geena
It’s a tiny object, nothing remarkable to anyone else. But to me, it’s her.
Every time my fingers brush against it, I remember the scent of fresh henna, her calm laughter, the way she spoke with her hands. Some guests never really leave; they go on living in the house like a gentle echo.
“Thank you for making me feel at home, away from home.”
That was her last message before flying back to London.
Since then, we’ve kept writing to each other: lots of recipes, dishes tested, successes, glorious failures, and many pieces of life, stories of light days and heavy ones.
Putting difficult things into words, even from a distance, makes them easier to carry.
Geena is learning Italian and I help her when I can.
It’s strange how, sometimes, we grow closer to people who have shared only a few days of our lives than to those who have been around for years. Geena is one of those people: she arrived as a guest, and left as a friend.
What Geena says about the house
“A real home, not tourist accommodation. I worked, cooked and drew as if I had always lived in Rome. The windows let in a light that genuinely changes your mood. The kitchen is the heart of the flat, the kind that makes you want to cook even on holiday. Stephanie is generous, present without ever being intrusive, and has that rare gift of making you feel both guest and friend at the same time. If you’re looking for a place to slow down and feel part of the city – not just looking down on it – this is the one. ”
Photo by: space+style™️ picture and media production @marcojoefazio creatives
More than just a place to sleep
La Casa al Colosseo is not a hotel, but it’s not “just” a flat either.
It’s an early 1900s apartment that creaks in all the right places, fills with light in the morning and with the smell of tomato sauce in the evening. It’s the place where you can come back with your market bags, cook with the window open, leave your books on the table and feel that you’re not simply occupying a room, you’re inhabiting a small piece of the city.
If, reading Geena’s story, you recognised yourself in the desire to slow down, to work in peace, to walk without a plan and still have someone to chat to in the kitchen, then perhaps this house is for you.
Write to me I’ll tell you how it all works, what you’ll find here, and together we’ll see whether La Casa al Colosseo is the right place for your next stay in Rome.